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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26931598">To Feel Grounded</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahhannigan/pseuds/Sarahhannigan'>Sarahhannigan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:22:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26931598</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahhannigan/pseuds/Sarahhannigan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and Clarke crave chaos. </p><p>The type they crave the most doesn't come easy to them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To Feel Grounded</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Trigger warning // infertility issues.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With A.L.I.E destroyed and with the grounders at relative peace with one another, there became this humdrum existence within the walls of Arkadia. Of course the peace was welcome. Everyone basked in it, the delinquents especially. Peace was to never be a bad thing per se, but it did take Clarke and Bellamy just that little bit longer to become accustomed to it. Having been thrown into a world full of chaos, the only goal being survival, it was to be expected that once that all got taken away, the fight for their life— they would struggle to find their place within this unsettling, mundane environment. </p><p>But at least they found each other. Well, kind of. They had always had each other, ever since falling from the sky and banding together to lead the group of delinquents. </p><p>Co-leaders. </p><p>Together. </p><p>Always. </p><p>However, the leadership they shared turned into much more when they itched for chaos, something to capture their attention from the dragging days that slipped by without meaning or purpose. Scarily tranquil. </p><p>In all honesty, they were on edge. Boredom dragged in their shadows, the need for chaos itched at their skin, ached in their bones. They didn't know what to do with themselves. Which was why they knew each others struggles so well. More so than anyone else within the confines of Arkadia. </p><p>When one of them was having a particularly bad day, a day where they couldn't contain their urges for adventure, they sought each other out. A hand on the lower back, a gentle murmur in the others ear and they were gone. Free to do as they wanted. And no one would ever bat an eyelid. The leaders needed time for themselves, just the two of them. Especially after everything they had been through. </p><p>A hunting trip in the nearby forest, a day at the lake, drives in the rover with no actual destination in mind. These were the things they would do, just him and her, silently struggling to come to terms with it all. With peace. </p><p>But they coped. They found a simple solace. Each other. </p><p>It was on one of these trips, a rainy summer morning spent swimming lazily in shallows of their secret little hideaway cove that they had found just a few weeks prior, did a new sort of disarray arise. </p><p>The chaos of falling in love. </p><p>They kissed for the first time that day. Soft and sweet, basking in the feeling of their lips against one another’s as the cool droplets of rain ran down their prickled skin, clinging to their eyelashes. It was quick, unexpected but entirely welcome. One minute Bellamy was teaching Clarke how to float, hand pressed lightly to her lower back as he held her just below the waterline, and the next the task was disregarded. Because somehow Clarke ended up with her legs wrapped around his waist, her hesitant hands toying with the hairs at the nape of his neck and her lips descending on his. </p><p>It was an urge. Something had came over her. Clarke’s confidence boosting for the three seconds it took for the action to be completed. And there it was, the much desired quickening of their heartbeats that they hadn't felt in such a long time. They loved it, craving it more and more as progressed in their transition from leaders to lovers.</p><p>When they kissed in the rover on the drive home, simple and lazy, like they'd done it a thousand times before, they felt it. When they kissed one another goodnight later that evening, the lingering sort, the sort where they had to remind themselves that they'd see each other the next day, they felt it. </p><p>When they began showing more open, public affection towards each other. A stolen kiss in the line for dinner, lingering touches whenever they parted ways, reserved smiles. Grasping the opportunities that empty hallways held, giggling into each others necks when they were caught. It was then that people around them began to take notice, with simple words of congratulations and comments about the new couple. That’s when they felt it. </p><p>Three months after the beginnings of their romantic relationship, sneaking the rover out at midnight to make love for the first time in a clearing near the boundary of their sector. Slow and easy, knowing full well they just about had all the time in the world. They savoured in the touch of their skin gliding, their hot breath mingling, fingers digging into flesh. There was no rush, no recognition of passing time. They just felt it.</p><p>Confessing their love that same night, whispering promises into the warm air, cuddling close to savour the moment. </p><p>
  <em>”I love you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>”I love you, too.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> "I don’t ever want to imagine my life without you in it." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "You won’t ever have to."</em>
</p><p> They felt it. </p><p>Six months after that, moving into their own small and newly built centralised cabin, (they were still leaders after all) though secluded enough to not feel crowded in. And making that small abode their own with the personalised touches. Clarke’s sketches pinned to the wooden walls, Bellamy’s scavenged books on the rickety handmade bookshelf, an indigo knitted blanket they had traded  for folded among the soft furs on their bed. Making themselves a home, a domestic place of their own, they felt it. </p><p>Every one of these seemingly mundane events, they felt it. The quickening of their heartbeats, that chaos that they craved. It kept them going, ironically stabilised them. They needed that feeling to thrive. But perhaps the most heartbeat fastening experience of all, was when four years later there was a proposition, a nerve-wracking question followed by an immediate agreement. </p><p>They wanted a baby. A family. More chaos. </p><p>People around them had already started their own broods. Most were young couples with children already, taking advantage of the abolishment of the one child policy to give their kids the experience of having siblings. But some were delinquents just like them, yearning for a family to keep them grounded. A hint of the chaos they had before.</p><p>Monty and Harper had a little boy last summer, Jordan, the light of their lives. He was nine months old with these pudgy, rosy cheeks and a mop of thick, black hair who would giggle at almost anything you said or did. If you were feeling down, being in the company of Jordan for only a few minutes would bring you back up again. That’s the kind of baby he was. A natural ray of sunshine. </p><p>Murphy and his Grounder girlfriend, Emori, were expecting twins in just a few weeks. Murphy was probably the most surprising of all delinquents making the transition into parenthood, but just watching how overprotective he was around his pregnant girlfriend was a clear indication of the type of father he surely was about to become. He’d be the type to punch anyone who sneezed within a one mile radius of his kids, the type to try and baby proof his whole cabin six months before his children even became remotely close to crawling. </p><p>And then there was Talon. Bellamy was made an uncle almost four years ago when Octavia and Lincoln welcomed their son into this world. Despite the aggressiveness of such a name, the boy was anything but. With a smile brighter than the sun, and enough energy to power the whole of Arkadia singlehandedly, Bellamy’s nephew was a spitfire cannonball full of joy.  </p><p>But that wasn't all. </p><p>It was three days ago when Octavia trudged into medbay, dark circles under her eyes with Talon trailing behind her when she demanded an ultrasound or a pregnancy test or something to give her some goddamn answers. And there it was, the flickering heartbeat of yet another baby within the walls of Arkadia. </p><p>“Congratulations, O.” Clarke tried to muster her best smile. “You’re pregnant.” </p><p>The brunette smiled her own smile but she paired it with the roll of her eyes. “Great.” She seemed pleased, though not as excited as one ought to be when finding out such news. Did she not want this? The reaction left Clarke with an almost sour taste in her mouth. If Clarke had found out such news, she’d be a blithering mess, crying, elated, full of joy. </p><p>“Happy?” Clarke asked softly, wiping away the gel from her stomach. “You were trying, right?” </p><p>“No, not really.” Octavia only shook her head, dismissive and a little uncaring. “I mean, of course i’m happy. But it wasn't planned.” She nodded her head towards where her son was playing with a jar of cotton swabs, pretending they were all the guards that the little boy idolised. “I mean, neither was that one. It just kind of happened.” </p><p>Clarke swallowed the sizeable lump in her throat, her heart plummeting as she tried to not show Octavia how that simple comment was affecting her. “Oh,” she replied dumbly instead, nodding slowly as a disguise, trying to smile. “Right. So a welcomed accident then?” </p><p>Hopping off the bed, Octavia scooped Talon up into her arms and laughed. The child fussed, clearly not happy that his game had been interrupted. Yet, Octavia ignored him, continuing to chuckle. It sounded somewhat forced, a little bitter. Or maybe that was just Clarke’s imagination. “Yeah, something like that. See you later, Clarke.” </p><p>And when the brunette left seconds later without another word, an overwhelming urge to sit down consumed Clarke. Her legs were beginning to shake, to weaken. And so she did, finding the nearest chair before just about collapsing into it. It shouldn't have affected her the way it had, and knew that she was probably being dramatic, but such a throwaway comment had completely enveloped her in a world of anguish. People had it so easy, and they didn't even know it. They didn't even care. </p><p>So Clarke allowed herself three minutes to get it all out. To fall apart in a relatively public area. To curse the world for being so cruel, so unforgiving. And when her time was up, she wiped her eyes with the palm of her hands, took a deep breath and continued on with her day. </p><p>The rest she would have to do in her own time. </p><p>***</p><p>Clarke hadn't been the same since that day. Not really. </p><p>For three days she wasn't her usual, lively self. She was diminished. Hopeless. Crushed.</p><p>Her mind was fuzzy. She wasn't able to do her job properly, constantly distracted. It was lucky that no one came in with life threatening injuries, otherwise it would be unlikely they would've made it. She probably would've had a breakdown. Well, a premature one at the very least. </p><p>Octavia’s throwaway comment had affected her to the point where every second thought was focussed on the topic. Feelings that she had been suppressing for a very long time were starting to bubble over the brim inside of her, the concrete in her foundation beginning to crack and falter under the weight. It was about time she let her walls collapse, her world crumble. She needed to feel something. Anything.</p><p>When Bellamy came home after his guard shift three days after the initial development of her down mood, he found his girlfriend laying atop of their bed covers, clutching his pillow tightly to her chest with her face pressed into the mound. It took him less than a second to realise that she was crying, her shaking shoulders being the key contributory factor that made him come to that conclusion. </p><p>“Hey,” he breathed gently, draping his jacket over the hook next to the door, toeing off his boots while he was at it. He made his way forward when the task was over, sinking down onto the mattress, his heavy arm falling to her waist, pulling her flush against him. Bellamy knew not to ask when she was in a state like this, knowing full well that she’d tell him, if she wanted to or deemed it necessary, in her own time. </p><p>Clarke didn't like being forced into anything.</p><p>Besides, he already knew what was wrong. Octavia had told him the news today and it had clicked. All the little pieces had fallen into place. Clarke trying and failing to hide her diminished state, stating that she too tired and not in the mood. Which, of course, he hadn't pushed it. Never would he ever. It was just now was beginning to make sense. </p><p>She melted under his touch, pressure releasing that he was sure was pent up. His touch lulled her into closing her tired eyes, the weight of his arm across her waist being the only thing stopping her from breaking down any further. “Did you have a good day?” she asked him meekly, her voice just a whisper above the crackle of the roaring wood-fire. </p><p>If possible, he loved her even more in that moment. Even in the midst of her own pain, her despair, she still asked him about his day. “It was okay,” he murmured back, pressing a lingering kiss to the bare skin of her shoulder from where the t-shirt she was wearing had slipped down. He braced himself, knowing full well what was coming. “Octavia told me the news.” </p><p>She stiffened at that, a broken sob leaving her lips as she pushed herself further into him. “Yeah?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Bellamy nodded, intertwining their fingers from where it rested on her waist. He knew where this conversation was going. “Talon’s going to be a big brother.” </p><p>There was a prolonged period of silence before Clarke’s voice returned, shattering it. “They weren't even trying, Bell.” And there it was, a quiver. Her walls fell around her. “We’ve wanted a baby for four years. And they weren't even trying.” </p><p>“Clarke…” Bellamy breathed, before being cut off completely. She wasn't yet done. </p><p>“You know, maybe there’s a limit.” Her voice was beginning to raise ever so slightly as she opened her eyes to stare at the wall opposite her. “I think I’ve killed so many people that the universe decided that enough was enough. If I was willing to take so many lives away, maybe I’m unworthy of bringing one in.” </p><p>He sighed, his fingers stilling. “That’s bullshit and you know it. We’ll just keep trying, okay?” </p><p>She turned around in that moment, burying her face deep into his chest as if she didn't want to look at him face to face. Her nose was pressed to his clavicle, her damp skin rubbing against his own. The usual softness she conveyed whenever they were alone was now strikingly gone, her voice now firm like when she was trying to win an argument. “No,” she spoke. “I can’t do this anymore.” </p><p>Frowning, Bellamy tried decipher what she was trying to say. They’d been wanting this for years now, trying just about everyday and everything to try and up their chances. Their time just hadn't come yet. Was she now suggesting that maybe it was time they gave up? Called it? Resigned themselves to a life without?</p><p>Clarke explained herself further without even being asked. “Every month it kills me,” she murmured, voice wavering, tears falling onto his collar. “I get my period and I feel like I’m the failure. And I know that I shouldn’t, but I do. Because I can’t do the one thing women are suppose to do.” She took a deep breath, continuing when she was ready. “Women coming into the clinic with their babies and their pregnancies, it kills me. You, albeit unknowingly, kill me too.”</p><p>“Why?” he asked her gently, confusion etching into his features.  </p><p>Swallowing a choke of sorrow, she shook her head, burying herself deeper. “You’d be such a good dad, Bellamy. And I can’t give that to you.” </p><p>That just about shattered him. “How do you know it’s not me?” he replied immediately. “How do you know that i’m not the underlying issue here?” </p><p>She didn't reply for a long while, trying and failing to steady her breathing. Eventually, the truth came out. “I got tested. I’m inhospitable.” And at that final sentiment, she broke more than she ever had. Her sobs wracked her body, her cries inconsolable. He managed to hear a heartbroken statement between the sobs, “My mother told me today that even if I do fall pregnant, there’s a high chance I won’t be able to carry to full term.” But that was all, the rest a blubbering mess. </p><p>He didn't even know they were capable of such tests down here. He wouldn't even know where to start with such tests. But he wouldn't ask about the process. Bellamy wouldn't dare. And he knew nothing he would say could stop this emotional rampage either, so instead he let it run its course as he came to terms with the sudden news himself. Subconsciously, he trailed his fingers through her curls as he did so, held her tighter and prayed to God that it was enough. </p><p>It wasn’t. </p><p>“I’m broken,” he heard her murmur, and he wasn't having it. He would allow for her sorrow, not self deprecation. </p><p>“You’re beautiful,” Bellamy whispered in her ear immediately, coaxing her out of her hiding place to make her look him in the eye. “And you're mine. That’s all that matters.” He tucked a loose strand of hair away from her face, wiping her tears with the pad of this thumbs. “Okay?”</p><p>“No, not okay.” Clarke quivered her lower lip, obviously struggling to not let a sob escape her throat. It took her mere seconds to give up, allowing it to surface. “I’ll never be able to give you children, Bellamy. Don’t you get that?” </p><p>His answer was plain and simple. “I didn't fall in love with your reproductive system, Clarke. I fell in love with you.”</p><p>She tried to smile, but it was broken. Two tears slipped from either eye, trailing her reddened cheeks as she stared deep into the gaze of her company, the man she loved. Poetically, they trailed symmetrically, Bellamy taking the perfect opportunity to cup her face in his hands, sweeping them away again. </p><p>He sensed her relief, her chest heaving a sigh, though he wasn't sure as to why she would ever fear his reaction. Sure, he was disappointed. Sure, he was trying not to break down and cry with Clarke. But it was because she was so distraught over the matter, broken and he hated seeing her like that. Of course he would've loved a child to call their own, too. With dark hair, ringlets wild and untameable. And with blue eyes, the exact same shade of Clarke’s. The colour of blue he had come to cherish so dearly. But never would he resent her, or blame her or declare their relationship null and void because they're was an absence of offspring. </p><p>No. He loved her no matter what. Through thick and thin. Through the good times and the bad and everything in between. Never would he ever stop loving the girl opposite him. Not ever.</p><p>Leaning forward, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lightly salted lips, lingering for only a few seconds before pulling away and allowing her to tuck her face against his collarbone once more. She told him once that that was her favourite place to be, so he guessed she wanted to be there right now. In her safe place. “Try and get some sleep. We’ll take the day off tomorrow, yeah?” </p><p>She nodded against him, mumbling a quiet and reserved, “Yeah.” </p><p>“We’ll take the rover, you and me. Maybe camp out for the night?”</p><p>Humming, she lifted her head ever so slightly. It was an invitation for him to press a kiss to the top of her head. </p><p>“Can we go to the beach?” she asked him, voice so small and fragile. Though a trek, Clarke absolutely loved the beach, though not to swim. She loved just sitting on the sand and watching the waves gently kiss the shore before being sucked back in by the power of the ocean. It always balanced her. A reminder that this was Earth, that there was so much more beyond the horizon. </p><p>“Sure,” he whispered.</p><p>He held her through the night when she eventually fell into a slumber. But Bellamy didn't follow immediately after. He couldn’t. With Clarke not fully being able to hear him, it was only inevitable that he allowed himself to cry just a little. Because he was losing the same thing as her, and they had been trying for years, and having that goal ripped away from you in an instant is shattering. He’d never be able to experience the joy of finding out his love was pregnant, to run his hand over her stomach and feel the kick of their child inside her, to hold and support her through labour. </p><p>He’d get none of it, and it was heartbreaking. He wasn't going to lie. But it wasn't the end of the world. He knew that, and he’d make sure Clarke did to. They needed to have hope that things would all get better, that one way or another they would live a long and fulfilling life. Together. </p><p>Bellamy gave Clarke one last kiss to the head before giving into his own exhaustion. </p><p>*** </p><p>They awoke early the next day, knowing full well it would take them well over half a day to get to the beach they were after. When requested, both Abby and Kane gave the two sincere nods of encouragement, scheduling them back to work in four days. It was generous, highly so. So they wouldn't waste it, and they certainly would take their damn time coming back to Arkadia. It was like a much needed holiday for them both. </p><p>Raven reluctantly allowed them the rover for those four days, but demanded them stay on marked paths or smooth clearings with little shrubbery blocking their way. The rover was like Raven’s baby, and handing it over for that long a time obviously filled her with dread. But she saw the way Bellamy pleaded with hopeful eyes, and the way Clarke stayed absolutely silent, clutching Bellamy’s hand like he was the only thing keeping her from running. Raven couldn't say no to the couple, not even if she tried. So she gave them the keys and sent them on their way.</p><p>The drive was one of little conversation. Instead, the silence was filled with the music of another iPod found a couple of months ago, charged by a solar powered device Monty and Raven had created. It was nice to have something everyone could use, could enjoy. Jasper would never freely give up the iPod that was originally Maya’s, and no one ever asked. It was all he had left of her, it would be cruel to take it away from him. </p><p>Clarke had queued all their favourites within the first few minutes of the trip, so the last three hours they have been enveloped by the lyrics of artists such as <em>Arctic Monkeys,</em> <em>The Kooks,</em> <em>The Heavy</em> and <em>Bluejuice.</em> They were upbeat, a good distraction. But inevitably, the upbeat songs made way for the slower ones, the ones that tug at the heart, put a stone in the pit of your stomach. <em>Kodaline,</em> <em>Iron and Wine,</em> <em>Ben Howard.</em></p><p>It wasn't long before Clarke’s cheeks turned wet, sniffling as she looked out the window. There was only twenty minutes left of the trip, but those were the worst. It was to be expected, they weren't just going to be over the fact that they'd never be able be able to have biological children in a day. The wound would take time to heal, if ever. Right now though, it was as fresh as ever. </p><p>“Hey,” Bellamy breathed beside her, squeezing her hand before having to pull back to change the gears. “We’ll be okay.” His voice wavered a little, like there was a bubble stuck in his throat. </p><p>Clarke wasn't an idiot. Of course this affected him too. But right now, she had no idea how to help him, because she couldn't yet help herself. So she closed her eyes and pathetically nodded, wiping her tears on the sleeves of her jacket.</p><p>“We’re almost there.” </p><p>It was a shallow comfort, but the thought of breathing in that sea air and stretching her legs did sound ultimately appealing. So she powered through, managing to suppress her anguish to just a slight quiver of the lip, and in just fifteen more minutes they were at the edge of the world. All that was ahead of them was the vast expanse of the sea, and it was the most welcoming sight Clarke had seen all day. </p><p>Bellamy drove further along the sandy panes to make sure that the area was extra secluded, free from prying eyes or the occasional straggler, before eventually parking near a rocky alcove and setting up camp. Camp wasn't much really, just collapsing the seats in the back of the rover to make it a flatbed, opening up the main door so that when they eventually fell asleep that night, they’d be overlooking the lapping waves, the continuous motion of the ocean. And gathering enough driftwood to create the beginnings of a sustainable fire to cook their next meal on. </p><p>Clarke didn't help, Bellamy ordered her not to. So instead, she trailed her way towards the ocean’s edge, gasping at how icy cold the water was beneath her bare feet. She dug them into the sand, enjoying watching as they sunk deeper and deeper with every newly broken wave that passed. It was on roughly the tenth, the sand now reaching just higher than her ankle, when she heard the crunching of someone stepping on the dryer sand behind her. </p><p>It wasn't long before she felt that someone gently touch her hip, a hesitant question. She loved him so much in that moment, how he knew exactly how he was feeling, how he didn't push anything. Clarke leant back into him to let him know that he was fine, that she wanted him to touch her, to reassure her. </p><p>When he got the hint, he trailed his hand along her stomach, though upon feeling her flinch a little, he lifted his arm higher to rest midway across her ribcage instead. She liked that there wasn't always a need to fill up with silence with conservation. She liked that it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. It was just them and the wind and the waves. Nothing else. It was nice. </p><p>“Are you getting hungry?” he murmured into her ear after a while, tapping his fingers against her side as he awaited the answer. </p><p>“Yeah,” she answered, because she was. Actually, come to think of it, she was starving. It was amazing how quickly even the most basic of needs were forgotten when grief was in the picture. </p><p>They roasted boar and potatoes over an open campfire, little conversation shared between them. And that was okay. They sat apart, eyes glassy as they stared into the fire, finishing their meals in silent reflection. </p><p>When dinner was over they weren't really in the mood to do anything else, exhausted still from the day of travelling behind them. </p><p>So they went to bed.</p><p>When Clarke awoke, everything burned. Her skin. Her lungs. Her entire being. </p><p>She sat up with a gasp. She couldn't breathe. Could hardly even think she was that overwhelmed. </p><p>Air. </p><p>She needed air. </p><p>Beside her Bellamy began to stir, but Clarke couldn't think about him right now. She stripped the blankets off of her and stumbled out of the rover bed, landing with a soft thunk on the sand beneath. She didn't let it stop her though. Scrambling to her feet, she pushed forwards, eventually making it to the shoreline. </p><p>It was then that she finally stopped, allowed herself to draw a quick breath before shedding every inch of clothing. Her top came first, then she tripped out of her pants and before too long she was naked, submerged waist deep in the freezing water. </p><p>Clarke was shivering, but she was also breathing so much easier now. It was the price to pay. </p><p>She stood there for a while, sucking in the oxygen and trying to calm herself down. </p><p>Then she heard it. </p><p>“Clarke!” </p><p>“No!” she shouted back, the wind turning the noise barely audible. “I need this.” That’s when the first full blown sob broke through. Her teeth chattered together. She was freezing, though was swarmed by heat. Everything still burned. “P-please. I need this.” </p><p>She half expected him to join her anyway, for him to wrap his arms around her and drag her back to the shore. But he didn’t. When she looked over her shoulder, she found him just sitting there. On the beach. Patiently waiting. However long it would take, he would wait. </p><p>In all, it took only ten minutes for her body to scream at her, to tell her to get her ass out of there and back to the warmth of the arms that knew exactly how to hold her. </p><p>“I’ve got you,” Bellamy murmured against her temple when she stumbled back towards him. He pressed her tight against himself, keeping her grounded. A blanket was wrapped around her shoulders and she didn't even know where it came from. “Whatever you need, I got you.” </p><p>Clarke muffled her sobs against his chest. “I-I…” She didn't know what she needed. </p><p>She needed everything to be normal. She needed her body to be normal. To do what it was meant to do. </p><p>But she couldn't have that, could she?</p><p>So Clarke said nothing. She needed nothing right now. </p><p>Just him.</p><p>***</p><p>It was hard to get back into the swing of things back at Arkadia once they returned. </p><p>The days were long, the nights not long enough. </p><p>The depression lasted just over a month, the height of it being the birth of Koda and Karli, Murphy and Emori’s twins. </p><p>Clarke was just starting her shift when Emori’s labour progressed to the point of delivery, so she was the one to endure the full brunt of the occasion. She was the one to witness the pain, the exhaustion, the comforting reassurance of the soon to be father, the determination of the soon to be mother. </p><p>She aided in the birth of not one, but two babies. </p><p>Sensed the overwhelming emotion that encased the entire room. Marvelled at the sound of the newborn cries. </p><p>Abby pulled her in for a hug once everything was over, murmuring just how proud she was of being so strong through such a trying time. And Clarke just smiled back at her, though it didn’t quite meet her eyes. </p><p>“I’m fine,” she told her. “Really, I am.” </p><p>Only Bellamy knew how much of that was a lie when he was the one to hold her that night, whispering in her ear that it would get easier. </p><p>Clarke had doubted him, but it was the truth. </p><p>The stabbing feeling that shot through her heart everything time she’d have to confirm a pregnancy at work soon gave way to just a dull ache. The resentment she’d feel towards those women subsided, replaced now with excitement that Arkadia’s population was flourishing, even if she wasn't the one to add to it. </p><p>And there was a new sort of joy that emerged from it all. </p><p>In their four year pursuit of a successful pregnancy, sex had become somewhat of a chore. The enjoyment of it was mostly gone, replaced instead with the rigid routine they had fallen into. The timing, the position. It was always the same. </p><p>Now though, all of that had been thrown out the window. It was like everything was anew again. Gone were the expectations, the stress that accompanied the task. Because it wasn't a task anymore. It was just love.</p><p>The early mornings, just after Bellamy would return from his night shifts, he’d wake up Clarke with featherlight kisses to her neck, and she’d keen, fluttering open her eyes while a soft smile spread across her lips. </p><p>Those mornings were her favourite. </p><p>They’d undress each other slowly, pulling their garments away inch by painstaking inch until there was nothing else in the way. Kisses that melted away into moans, wandering hands, heavy breathing turning to shallow gasps. </p><p>They were timed, though it was a different type of timing now. </p><p>“I have to be at work in forty five,” Clarke would murmur against his neck. </p><p>Bellamy nipped at her skin and replied as smooth as sugar, “Plenty of time, my love.” </p><p>When they were done, spent but happy, they would bask in their glow for just a few lingering moments. Bellamy would hold her in his arms, already starting to nod off, and she would bury her face into his neck and wind her hands around his firm waist. Breathing him in, she was reminded that home was not a place, but a person. That Bellamy was her person, all she needed.</p><p>And they would be okay.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Part two?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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